Dark Night
by patient zero
Summary: Terry McGinnis runs across a blackmarket weapons ring, strange new villains, and makes a new friend. Yes, it's kinda bad, but that's okay, it's about 10 years old. Originally two parts, compiled into one this occasion.


**Part One - From Shadows Cometh**

Voracious rain pelted down on Gotham City, only adding to the element of darkness that lay beneath the urbane exterior of the city. The brightness of the neon seemed almost obscene in the downpour. The clouds were lighted randomly by bursts of lightning. It was the type of night one stayed indoors until it blew over.

"I really don't think any bad guys are going to be out tonight," Terry McGinnis grumbled. "Unless they're masochistic."

_Crime doesn't take a day off during inclement weather_, came the dry reply of Bruce Wayne in Terry's cowl.

The black mask that was telltale Batman dropped into a frown. "They should. Nobody sane would be out in this." He paused, mentally seeing the little grin on Bruce's face. "No comments from the peanut gallery."

_Wouldn't dream of it, McGinnis. Back to patrolling_.

Terry sighed and peered through the relentless deluge, eyeing the street below his perch. A few hover cars were seen, and he felt a twinge of pity for any of them that didn't have an indoor garage. This really wasn't weather to be out in. But if crime didn't take a night off, neither could Batman.

He stood up, glanced around the area a last time, then dropped off the side of the building and ignited his foot jets and shot off towards another section of the city to watch over. Thankfully, the rain was letting up some, and visibility increased marginally. Terry scanned the streets below and set down on another building. He didn't really mind the calm night, but instincts unearthed during his time as Batman had him suspicious of the quiet. 'Calm before the storm,' he said to himself, the old cliché often too true these days.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," he commented.

_About what?_ Bruce replied in the com.

"Just in general," Terry said. "I'm being paranoid, aren't I?"

_Probably not. Not counting the few mistakes, your instincts are usually on the mark. _the older man said, wry humor tingeing his voice.

Terry grimaced. "Gee, thanks."

They lapsed into silence, Terry once again standing vigilant watch over the wet streets. The rain had eased up more, and was now a drizzle. He was about to spring from this perch to check another part of the city when the loud crashing of dumpster being overturned caught his attention. Immediately his head snapped towards the noise and his vigilance was rewarded.

The dumpster came from an alleyway, and following the dumpster a small figure scurried out to the street. Mocking laughter floated out of the alley, and Terry's eyes narrowed. 'Jokerz,' he growled to himself. The aforementioned gang, a band of criminals founded in loving memory of the Joker, burst out after the lone person. Terry sprung off and dove down towards the Jokerz, but not before they cornered their quarry in a nook between two buildings. As he neared the scene, Terry could see the pinned person was a girl. He didn't have a chance to scrutinize her any closer as he barreled into two of the five gangbangers.

The two he nailed flew a few feet before collapsing in a heap. The others yelped, and the usual "It's Batman!" "Batman!" was cried out. Two of the remaining Jokerz went for Terry, the third went for the girl. Punches were exchanged, and Terry leveled his two to see the girl make a swing at the Joker trying to grab her. The Joker backed away and snapped a kick at the girl's head. His attack did connect, and the girl smacked into the wall behind her and dropped to the sidewalk, dazed.

"Hitting girls is a sign of bad manners," Terry rumbled, backhanding the Joker away as the clown-painted criminal turned to face him. Another punch and the Joker was down. His buddies, however, had recovered enough to pick up their friend and dashed off.

"Don't think yer outta the fire yet, bitch!" One shouted as they retreated. Terry impassively watched them leave, then turned his attention to the girl. She was in the process of pushing herself off the wet concrete, wincing as she did so.

"Here," Terry offered, a black-gloved hand extended out to her. She looked up at him and clasped his hand, and he helped her stand. "You okay?"

"For the most part," she replied, rubbing her temple.

Terry took the opportunity to get a better look at her. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, but looked like it hadn't seen a good washing for some time. It was a shade of brown, but matted and disheveled. Her clothing was pretty much the same; old, tattered, and dirty. It was painfully obvious to Terry this girl didn't have a permanent home.

She seemed to be doing the same thing, assessing his black suit with the red bat emblem on the chest. "The Batman. Whattaya know. Didn't think ya made with the rescuing damsels in distress thing."

He shrugged. "You wanted to get beaten up by Jokerz? Why were they after you anyway?"

"I caught 'em making a deal with some well-dressed jerk. Something about weapons," she answered, then shrugged. "I knocked over a garbage can, the jerk got spooked and made a getaway, and the clowns decided losing their deal needed a body to make it all better."

"Real nice," Terry growled.

"There are always risks when ya ain't got a place to go 'cept the streets," she said, fixing him with a blue-eyed gaze. "Don't you got other good deeds to do?"

"Don't you gotta name?" He fired back, one Bat-eyebrow raised a bit.

She grinned. "You didn't ask. I'm Anna."

"You need ... got somewhere to go?" He faltered a bit, feeling a little embarrassed.

Anna waved the comment off. "I can find a place. Don't worry about me, Bats." She reached over and patted his shoulder, and started off down the street.

Terry watched her go, then took to the air again and perched on another building. He was silent for some time when Bruce's voice came through the com in his cowl.

_What're you thinking about, Terry?_ Bruce inquired.

"There's something bigger going down that she let on," he replied. "Reminds me of the other time the Jokerz were getting into weapons. And that she's probably going to get into trouble again."

_It's best we keep an eye out then_, the older man commented.

Anna hunched under a fallen wall and blinked at the morning light filtering through. She'd found a good enough place after the attack, but she hadn't gotten much sleep. She was afraid that the Jokerz would try again, and Batman wouldn't be around to help her. Exhaustion had finally won out, and she had woken up in the same sitting position she'd been in the night before.

She briefly remembered the times when she had her own room, in a house, with parents. It wasn't a pristine, picture perfect American Family type of life, but it was better than running and hiding and not eating properly. Anna sighed a little and picked up the backpack containing a few spare bits of clothing, an extra pair of sneakers, and the few things she owned before her mother had run off. It was almost funny, that everything she owned fit into one battered backpack.

The streets were still wet from last night's heaven-sent shower, and Anna carefully picked her way around the debris to merge with the morning crowds. An electronics store showed the time to be closer to eleven-thirty, and she sighed. She'd overslept. By the time she made it to the shelter, the hot water would be gone. '_Better a cold shower, though, than looking like a drowned rat._' Another sigh. '_At least I'll eat._'

She passed by Hamilton Hill High School, and stopped to stare at it. It was lunchtime for some students, and they sat outside on the campus' benches and stairs. Anna bit back the bitterness and jealousy that always choked her when she saw the place. She'd be going there, if Mom hadn't disappeared, leaving her to fight fist and nail for a place to sleep sometimes. She might even have friends. They'd talk about television, and computer games, and all sorts of teenaged stuff. Anna vainly wished she could have a simple life like that, where she didn't have to worry about someone beating her up for her shoes, or even attempting to rape her.

Anna squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the tears back. She shouldn't think about that. Luck was with her so far, that she hadn't been a victim of that yet. But she'd seen it happen a few times. Her chest constricted in fear and she spun around, eyes wide with residual fear, making sure the only people around her were pedestrians.

She spared Hamilton Hill one last longing glance, and resumed her lonely trek to the shelter. It was safer than the streets, and the fears that threatened her even in the daylight hours.

" ... did you get that, Terry?" Max asked, peering at him.

"Huh? What?" Terry replied astutely, looking back to the pink-haired black girl.

Maxine Gibson let out an explosive sigh. "Did you even hear anything I said?"

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I guess my brain was off somewhere else?"

Terry turned to face Max better, adjusting the algebra book in his lap, sparing the dreaded thing with an evil look. He hated algebra, and it seemed to share the feeling. He'd ask Max, hands down the smartest person in the whole school, to help him study for Friday's test.

"No wonders you suck at this," she grinned. "You never pay attention. The planet would probably go backwards the day you actually managed not to doze off during class." She marked her spot in the book and shut it, holding it against her chest behind her crossed arms, a sly grin on her lips. "Thinking about someone?"

"Actually, yeah ... " Terry said, glancing back to the sidewalk in front of the school. He swore he'd seen Anna standing there, but he couldn't distinguish definite features from as far away as he was.

"Taking Dana to the club Friday night?" She asked, the grin not leaving her face.

He matched her grin with a wan one of his own. "If things don't pop up."

Max blinked. "Something going down?"

"Not sure," Terry shrugged. He looked around, and continued in a low tone when he was assured they wouldn't be overheard. "Caught some Jokerz attacking a girl who'd interrupted a potential weapons tradeoff last night."

His friend's eyes widen a little. "And you think this could turn into something big?"

"Maybe. I'm not going to dismiss this as a one-time event." His tone was grim.

Max set her book down. "You want me to check around on-line for anything?" She'd known about Terry being Batman for some time now, after she'd compiled a databank of kids at Hamilton Hill who could have been a leader for a group of Jokerz. Max helped him out sometimes, and was a whiz with anything computerized.

"Wouldn't hurt," Terry mused. "Don't get in too deep, though."

"I have no inclination," she snorted. "You do the fighting, I just play cyber-gofer."

The warning bell rang, and they gathered their things together. "I'll start looking next period," Max said.

"Don't get caught," Terry grinned, earning a disgusted look from Max. She started off for her class, and Terry found himself looking back down at the street where Anna had been. Maybe he was wrong. It could have been anyone. His thoughts turned towards puzzling out what the Jokerz were doing with arms dealers. The period bell, however, startled him out of that train of thought and he dashed off for class.

'Algebra. I swear, it's evil.'

"Did it go off successfully?"

"No. Someone else was there, and I didn't want some street trash going to the cops about me."

"You worry too easily, Richards. What about our clients?"

"I'm sure they'll contact me again. The goods were too nice for them to just pass up, especially if they'll put those punks on a level playing field with the Bat."

"I fuckin' hate that guy."

"Nobody asked your opinion, Brute. Besides, that's no way to speak in front of a lady."

"Lady? Where? I don't see no – OWW!"

"Learn some manners. It won't hurt so much."

"Y-Yes, ma'am."

"That's better. Richards, inform me when our clients contact you again. I'd rather that this time, the drop-off went down without a hitch."

"Yes ma'am."

"Finally!" Terry said, slamming his locker shut. The day had finally ended, and he wanted to get home to catch a snack before going to see Bruce. He wanted to know if the older man had found out anything about new weapon shipments in the city. And he was wondering what had happened to Anna.

He walked with the crowd of kids to the exit of the school, looking around for Dana or Max. Dana, because he wasn't sure if he could make tomorrow night's club date, and Max because he wanted to see if she'd found anything out. He spotted his black-haired girlfriend chatting with a few of her friends and dodged his way through packs of kids to get to her.

"Hey, Dana." He said, smiling a bit.

She smiled back. "Hey Ter. Sleep through algebra again?"

"Is it a joke now or something?" He grinned.

"Max told me," she said, going into her purse and holding a disc out to him. "She wanted me to give you this. Some kind of research project?"

He nodded quickly. "And extra help on the math. Thanks." He took the disc and put it in his inside jacket pocket.

Dana brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and crossed her arms in front of her. "So, are we on for Friday night?"

"I'm not sure. Mr. Wayne might need me for something ... " he trailed off, jabbing his hands into his pockets.

"As usual," Dana sighed. "-Try- to be there, okay? Everyone's going to be there around eight. I will be looking for you."

Terry almost squirmed under the look she gave him, and smiled to cover up his reaction. "I'll really try this time, Dana. Promise."

"Alright," she smiled, and leaned up to peck his cheek before joining her friends, stopping to wave at him once, then going along with them. He watched her walk off, and started on his own way home.

The walk was usually very sedate, and it gave him time to think about things. He didn't want to fail the test tomorrow, his mom would skin him alive if he did. Even with Max's help, it would take a lot of effort to get a passing grade on the test. Ass-kicking he could do, but algebra? Who needed algebra anyway.

Dana. He really should be there at the club. He didn't spend enough time with her as is, his nights compromised of flying around town in a bio-electronical suit and a technological marvel that was the Batmobile.

Anna. The Jokerz. Whoever it was that was trying to sell the gang weapons. '_Like they need weapons. Really_,' he muttered to himself.

As if his mere thought of it created it, the sounds of gunshots ricocheting off walls went off, and the screams of people trying not to get hit accompanied it in an almost morbid chorus. Terry turned in time to see the same Jokerz, minus one or two of the painted criminals, bearing down on Anna again. Thankfully there were people between them, but the Jokerz were roughly shoving people out of the way.

"You can't outrun a bullet, you goddamn whore!" The taller Joker snarled, trying to aim his weapon at Anna.

Her panicked look was enough for Terry to make up his mind, and he rushed into the quickly thinning crowd to grab her arm, picking up a broken brick – 'Convenient,' – and lobbing it full-force at the tall gangbanger. It struck the clown's gun hand, and he shrieked and dropped the piece.

"Run!" he shouted at Anna, and pushed her in front of him. She didn't bother to ask questions, and just ran down the street. Terry paced her, keeping himself between her and the Jokerz. He spared a glance over his shoulder to see the tall one regain his weapon. The other Jokerz were charging in with various blunt weapons. They weren't going to give up, and Terry wasn't in the Batsuit this time. They either had to lose the clowns, or make them give up the chase.

Anna had obviously decided on the latter. Terry nearly bowled her over and quickly ducked as she swung her backpack out to catch the baseball bat one Joker had pulled back to swing at Terry. The strap of the pack caught on the bat, and she tugged the thug in, her foot snapping out to connect painfully to the man's groin.

The Joker grunted and dropped over in time for Terry to launch his own kick at the second Joker's weapon. The club flew away, and the thug scowled and swung a meaty fist at him. Terry barely managed to evade the attack, and struck the man's jaw with a fist. The thug staggered, and slid back as Anna smashed her backpack into his face.

By now, the gun-wielding Joker had caught up, and fired at the teens. The first shot went wide, and the second skimmed past Anna's face. Terry pushed her down, rolled over a shoulder, grabbing up the fallen baseball bat as he rolled. When he pushed to his feet, he flung the bat at the Joker and reflexively ducked under another gunshot that tore away a good section of his jacket. His aim, fueled by desperation and honed reflexes, was true and the bat connected solidly with the Joker's chest. There was an audible _twack!_ As the tempered wood struck flesh, and the thug howled in pain and fell.

"C'mon," he grabbed Anna's hand and started at a full run, half-dragging her along. They ran down the streets, through shallow puddles, and only stopped because she tripped and landed on a knee. Terry stopped and panted, the adrenaline finally wearing off, lungs pulling in needed oxygen. He was bent over, hands on knees, but fully aware of where they were and straining to hear of any pursuit. What he heard, however, was not pursuit.

Anna was crying, clutching her worn backpack to her chest. He noticed she'd had time to clean herself up a little, and he reached out to touch her shoulder.

"Why me?" she sobbed, whipping her head up to look at him. "What did I do wrong?"

"I don't know," Terry said quietly, kneeling down beside her.

She turned and buried her face into his shoulder and continued to sob, one hand gripping his jacket. He put an arm around her shoulders to comfort her as best he could, and let her cry herself out. He imagined what her life was like, and he thought it really wasn't fair that all this was happening to her. He personally knew what it was like to be hounded, and the memory of his slain father came foremost in his mind. What had his father done wrong? He's tried to help a friend, and that had cost him his life. Even after all these months, the wound was raw. He missed his father beyond words, and felt the incurable guilt that the last words they'd shared were angry.

Anna's crying had tapered off to sniffles, and her grip on his jacket has loosened. He pulled back to look at her.

"You okay now?" he asked, eyes sympathetic.

She barely nodded, scrubbing at her eyes with the heel of one palm. "I'm sorry ... I didn't mean to just, go off like that."

"That's alright," he rubbed her shoulder gently. "Sometimes everyone needs to cry."

She nodded, more perceptible this time, and sniffed again.

"Do you have somewhere safe to go?" he asked, and as an afterthought added: "My name's Terry, by the way."

"Anna," she replied through another sniff. "And I don't think so. They probably know about all the places I go to."

Terry stood up. "Why don't you come with me then? My place is pretty safe."

"You sure? I don't seem to be the luckiest girl at this point," she commented bitterly, rubbing her nose once before shifting her gaze from her lap to him.

"Never hurt me before," he wryly grinned. He held his hand out to her, and hesitantly she took it, and he helped her to her feet. He was briefly reminded of last night, and the similarities between that incident and this one. She didn't let go of his hand, and he figured she needed a friend at this point. He lead her down the street and took a round-about route back to his home, just in case they were being followed.

He'd rather have the Batsuit next time those assholes tried to kill Anna again.

Terry unlocked the door, and looked around the door. "Mom? Matt?" No one answered, and he pushed the door open and let Anna in. She looked around and slowly walked in, and Terry shut and locked the door behind him.

"I guess she did go visit Aunt Michelle," he commented, more to himself than anything. He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over the couch, tapping the light switch on the wall. "Make yourself comfortable."

Anna dropped onto the couch, running a hand over the cushion. "We had a couch like this at home. It was striped blue. Mom said it was a bargain."

He glanced over at her. "Where is your mom?"

She was quiet for some time, and Terry regretted having asked that question. It was obviously a topic she wasn't too comfortable talking about.

"How about I let you borrow something, and you can get your stuff washed?" he offered, trying to pull the atmosphere back to something that wasn't too personal.

She looked over at him, and nodded. "That sounds nice."

"I'll be right back," Terry said, and went off to his room, snagging an old t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. They'd be a little big on her, but they were clean and well-worn. He closed his bedroom door and checked the washer and dryer, to make sure they were empty. He'd curl up and die if any of his laundry was still in either machine.

"Anna," he called out, and she peeked around into the hall, and started towards him. He held the clothes out to her. "I hope they are alright. They're all yours," he gestured at the machines.

"Thanks," she smiled shyly, then looked around. "Uhm ... "

"Oh yeah," Terry said, smacking his forehead with his palm. "The bathroom's the last door on the right. Hungry at all?"

"Oh yeah."

He smiled. "I'll go put something together then. Any preferences?"

Anna pushed some hair from her forehead. "I've learned not to be very picky."

"Right," he replied, trying to cover up that 'open mouth, insert foot' feeling, and made his way to the kitchen, leaving her to her things.

He was putting the final touches on two sandwiches, and was getting two glasses for some juice when he heard the washer start, shortly followed by her footsteps down the carpeted hallway. She stood in the doorway of the kitchen, arms wrapped around herself.

"Mom just didn't come back one day. She told me she had to go see John, and she took my last physical memory of my father. She was going to pawn his watch, to get her drugs. She had really bad habits ... she left in the afternoon, and I never saw her again," Anna said, looking at the floor. "The pusher came to our place, and he told me 'Kid, yer mom ain't comin' home. I suggest ya get outta here. Quick.' I took his advice. I was ten."

Terry was at a loss. "What happened to your dad?"

She shrugged. "Killed in the line of duty."

"He was a police officer?" he asked, putting the juice back in the refrigerator.

"The Jokerz got him," she said flatly. "I guess it must run in the family."

"They haven't gotten you yet," Terry noted, trying to sound optimistic.

Anna sat down at the small kitchen table. "Yet being the key word here. Batman isn't around to save me all the time." The look she gave him was a little curious.

"You never know," was all he said, setting a glass of juice and a sandwich in front of her. He remained standing and started on his own sandwich, mentally digesting everything she'd told him. She didn't seem that much older than he was, and the thought of any kid having to survive on the streets that young scared him. He looked over at her as she ate, wondering how she managed it. Living, alone, in a city infamous for crime, nobody to watch over you ... He set his sandwich down.

"How did you do it? Live there, all by yourself?" he asked in a low tone, eyes full of sympathy.

She bit her lip, and finally turned to look at him. "It was survive or end up like my mother. I loved her, but I don't want to be her."

"I'm sorry," he said, keeping her gaze. "I'm sorry you had to live that way. Nobody should have to go through that."

Anna looked like she was going to cry again, biting her lip hard to suppress the urge to just give in again. Instead, she shoved the chair back and pointed at him.

"You're supposed to make sure things like that don't happen!" She shouted, tears welling up in her eyes.

Terry blinked, shocked momentarily. "What?"

"Don't act all innocent," she snapped, closing the space between them. "You're Batman, aren't you? Aren't you?!"

"I – " he started, but she barely let him say even that.

"Don't you dare lie to me, Terry! You sound like him, you're just as tall. You –are- Batman!" She was right in front of him now, unshed tears making her eyes take on a glassy look. She pounded a fist into his chest, then started pummeling him with her fists. She wasn't trying to hurt him, he could tell, just trying to vent all the pain and frustration that nearly overwhelmed her life.

"Damn you! Why couldn't you have saved her! Why couldn't you have been there! You could have done something!" Now the tears came again, her furious pounding slowing to a near-stop. "Damn you ... "

Anna fell against him, clutching at his shirt, and for the second time that day she cried out her sorrows against him. Terry hesitated, then wrapped his arms around her shoulders and held her, letting her use him as a kind of comfort. Her sobs ebbed off sooner than before, and she was broodingly silent, her cheek pressed against his shoulder.

"I wish I could save everyone," Terry murmured, closing his eyes to ward off the pain that always accompanied this memory. "My dad ... he was killed, too. Just because he tried to help out a friend. That's why I became Batman, to avenge him. If I could have saved either of your parents, Anna, I would have, I swear."

"I know you would have," she said, her voice hoarse.

They dropped back into silence, and Terry held her until she pulled away. She did so, slowly, and rubbed at the tear stains on her face, offering him a weak grin.

"I haven't cried so much in years. It's all your fault," she sniffed in mock-accusation. "But I feel better."

He nodded. "Usually happens after a good cry. You must be tired."

"Yeah," Anna sighed. "I didn't get much sleep last night. I was afraid the Jokerz were going to find me again."

"Can't say I blame you," he said grimly. Then he smiled. "You can go crash in my room. It's more comfortable than the couch."

She blinked. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Besides, I've got to find out what exactly those Jokerz are up to." His jaw clenched in a determined line, and he exhaled a deep breath. "I can't have you keep worrying if the next day will be your last one."

"Thank you," Anna said quietly, looking up at him.

He smiled a bit. "Go ahead and sleep. I've got work to do."

A short while later, suited up and cruising above Gotham in the aerial Batmobile, Terry relayed everything to Bruce. He had given the older man the disc of information Max had gathered, and they were compiling everything together.

"So what do we get?" Terry asked, eyes checking the various displays and devices on the control panel.

_It seems a splinter group of a crime syndicate is trying to arm the street criminals with weapons far beyond standard issue police equipment_, Bruce started. _They had tried a similar scheme in Metropolis, but it fell through._

"And they came here. Great," Terry sighed. "But it explains why this syndicate is trying to sell to the Jokerz, and why they'd be willing to kill an eyewitness."

_Exactly. This must be too good of a deal for them to be able to pass up_. Bruce said, his tone colored with not a little anger.

Terry maneuvered the Batmobile under an overpass, his mask reflecting the grim expression on his face. "Whoever they are, they're going down."

**Part 2 - Illusions Dispelled**

Twilight glinted through the flat glass of the office, late evening rain pelting against the clear surface. A slim figure stood by the window, a well-manicured hand pressed against it. Meticulously coiffed hair of an unnatural blonde was piled atop her head, and she turned to face the man seated in a leather-upholstered chair in front of her desk.

"They've contacted you?" she asked, dark eyes narrowed.

"Yes," he answered. "We're meeting tonight."

She gave a curt nod. "Excellent. Do make sure that this time, there are no disturbances, Richards."

"Yes ma'am," Richards replied, standing up with his briefcase.

"Oh, and Richards?"

He turned back to her. "Ma'am?"

"Make sure you get it done tonight," she commented, examining her fingernails. "I'm running low on volunteers for my games. I'd hate to see you volunteer yourself."

Richards visibly gulped and nodded. "Of course, ma'am. I won't fail again."

She raised her head, the light catching her face. Her inhuman eyes, a bright gold with slit-pupils, predatory eyes, focused on him. "You better not."

Terry felt like he'd gone over every inch of Gotham already, a frustrated sigh hissing through his lips. He looked over his read-outs again, everything tinged with the red light of the interior of the Batmobile.

"What does a superhero have to do," he dryly commented, "to get the bad guys to show up?"

_Do you really want to know?_ Bruce Wayne asked, crossing his arms back in his chair in the Batcave.

"No. I'm just sick of always waiting. Maybe I should just go find them, instead of waiting for them to make another appearance." He tapped the console with a gloved finger, letting his head drop back against the seat.

Bruce checked his own computer read-outs, sharing a part of Terry's frustration. He was reminded of his days as Batman. Of course, he didn't have this much technology to use. He grinned to himself, thinking how 'easy' McGinnis had it. _Do you even know where they'll be?_

"No," Terry sullenly replied. "I guess I just wanna get these guys before they get the weapons. Can you blame me?"

_No, but you can't rush into things_. The former Batman stated, his voice holding a paternal quality.

"Alright. Maybe I should go on foot then," Terry thought out loud. "I'd be able to spot them better."

_Just be careful,_ was all Bruce said.

Terry turned the Batmobile and landed it on the roof of a mall, hopping out of the cockpit of the machine. It was raining, -again-, and Terry mumbled a few choice epithets about the weather. He extended the red wings concealed under the arms of his black suit, ignited the jet boots and shot away from the Batmobile.

He alternated between the short flights and watching from the rooftops, his impatience rising up notches at his inability to find the Jokerz. A half-hour after he took to flying solo he finally spotted the gaudily painted motorbikes the Jokerz favored.

"Bingo," he said in satisfaction, and turned on his stealth mode, his form fading from sight. He dropped to the street and followed behind the gang members on foot. After a few turns down the streets, harassing people out in the rain, the group split into two, each taking a different route. On a thought, he fired off a small tracking device at the last biker of one group and started after the other. He checked his wrist computer and grinned a bit to see the red dot and noted the direction the other group went. He'd be able to find them if they were the ones meeting with the arms dealers.

As luck would have it, he'd picked the right group to tail. This group of Jokerz, numbering three, turned down an alleyway. Terry stopped at the mouth of the alley and peered in. He could see a dark-colored limo, the headlights still on, parked near the opposite end of the alley. The gang swaggered up to a man with a briefcase, flanked by two tall and burly men. All three were dressed in suits.

Terry carefully inched closer, keeping his stealth mode on, and stopped within hearing distance of the group.

"You weren't followed?" the suited man asked the Jokerz.

"Nah," one said, grinning with his red-painted smile. "Ain't seen nobody but plebes."

"Good," the man said, almost in relief. "You have the funds?"

One Joker approached and dropped a sack in front of the man in the suit. Terry could see stacks of plastic credits sticking out of the sack, and he didn't need to get closer to figure out there was a lot of money in that bag.

One of the burly guys started for the bag, but the Jokerz pulled out weapons. "Ah ah ah," the leader sneered. "The goods."

The suit-guy nodded, and the trunk of the limo was opened up. The Jokerz gathered around and pulled out sleek, shining things that had an appearance of hi-tech blaster rifles. The Jokerz whistled in appreciation, and took a moment to stroke the metal of the guns.

"You can have tha money," one said. "These better than that."

The suit-guy grinned. "I'm glad we could come to this business conclusion, gentlemen."

One of the burly men picked up the sack of credits, and Terry figured it was time to take action. He tapped his fingers into his palm, and a pointed red and black Batarang snikted into his hand. With deadly precision, he flung it at the closest Joker with a gun. It whistled through the air and struck the weapon away.

"FUCK!" one shouted. "It's the Bat!"

"You said you weren't followed!" the suit-guy accused, hastily backing away from the gangbangers.

Terry dove onto the scene, turning off his stealth mode. "Guess they were wrong," he snapped. He slammed the Joker he'd disarmed into the ground, and back-flipped off the downed man to get a better position for the impending fight.

"Suck on this, you fuck," the lead Joker snarled, aiming his gun at Terry. The weapon hummed as it charged up, then released a blast of burning red energy in Terry's direction.

Eyes wide, he dropped out of the way, but his arm got grazed from the blast. He felt the searing heat and a sharp slash of pain, and when he had the time to look his black bio-electronic suit was torn off to expose part of his arm.

_Pull back,_ Bruce shouted in his com. _Don't give them time to get another shot off!_

"No, I actually like getting shot!" Terry shouted back, leaping up and attaching himself to the wall of one of the buildings. The Jokerz with guns opened fire, but were unprepared for the power of their weapons. Two stumbled back from recoil, and their shots went wide off their mark. The leader, having recovered from his own first-shot stumble, had better aim. His shot took off one of the pointed ears atop Terry's cowl.

"Shit," Terry muttered, leaping from the wall to the other. He then dove down into the group of Jokerz, hoping to himself they wouldn't dare try the guns again, not in close range. He smashed a fist into one's face and tugged him over, using him as a springboard to kick his feet into another's stomach. Both Jokerz dropped to the ground, their guns forgotten. The lead Joker, however, still had his gun. Terry heard the hum of a charging weapon and swore at himself for dropping the Joker's friends so he could get a clear shot at Terry without nailing his buddies.

He dove forward, rolling under the new blast of the baleful energy, and kicked his foot up to send the gun flying away again. He got to his feet and caught the swung fist of the leader, and glared at him. Not in the mood for his usual smart-ass remarks, Terry simply threw the Joker into his friends, who were at the time getting to their feet. The three of them crumpled in a pile, various muttered curses filtering out.

Terry quickly ran to the fallen weapon and snatched it up, turning back to see the Jokerz getting to their feet again. He flung a hand forward, unleashing a line attached to a Batarang. It whipped around the Jokerz and he tugged fiercely on the line. The wrangled gangbangers dropped back to the ground, struggling against the cable.

"Sorry, fellas. You're not getting away this time," Terry growled. Another shot-off Batarang imbedded itself into the brick of the wall, and the Jokerz were fundamentally captured. The sirens of incoming police vehicles caught Terry's attention and with a tight grip on the gun, he launched away from the scene. The limo and the men in suits were long gone, and he idly wished he'd nabbed the license plate number when he'd had the chance. But he did have the gun. 'And a good-sized burn,' he added with a wince.

_Terry, are you alright?_ a concerned Bruce asked.

"Yeah," he answered. "No real harm done. I'm coming back with this. Maybe you can figure it out."

_Good thinking._

He landed the Batmobile inside of the Batcave and dropped out of it, bringing the gun with him. Bruce turned his chair around and stood up, limping towards him.

"That's the gun?" he asked.

Terry nodded, then pulled off his mask, showing Bruce the patch on his arm that had been seared off. "And this is what it did."

Bruce eyed the section, then the burn blistering on Terry's arm. "Not good. Get changed and I'll start fixing it while I analyze this."

Bruce took the gun while Terry moved off to change out of the suit into the spare set of street clothes he kept in the Batcave. He paused while pulling his shirt on, looking at the burn. Just a graze did that to him. He shuddered as he imagined what would have happened if the blast had hit him in the chest.

He brought the Batsuit out to see his 'employer' already taking the gun apart, a hand-held computer scanner analyzing each piece and he removed it. Terry set the suit on the console and started crossing his arms, but the pain from the burn made him wince and abandon that gesture. Bruce looked up at him.

"I should take care of that for you," he said.

Terry shook his head. "I'll do it when I get home. You have more important things to do."

Bruce eyed him curiously, but let that pass. "Going home then?"

"I'm not much good here. Besides," he sighed. "I've got an algebra test tomorrow. If I don't pass, I'll have worse than a burn. Mom'll kill me."

The older man chuckled a bit. "Alright. Be careful out there."

Terry opened the door, blinking from the change in light from the hallway into the living room. He shut the door and relocked it, starting for the bathroom and the first aid kit his mom always kept in there. He pulled it out of the linen closet and rolled up his shirt sleeve, glancing in the mirror to look at the burn again.

"Terry?"

He started and turned around to see Anna in the doorway. "Damn you're quiet," he grinned.

She smiled a little. "I heard you come back. How'd it go?"

He showed off the burn, and she winced in sympathy. "Ouch. Was that from those things the Jokerz were going to buy?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "They barely shot at me, and look what happened."

"I'll take care of it," she offered, reaching for the kit.

Terry shrugged and sat down on the edge of the bathtub while she pawed through the first aid kit and set out some bandages and burn ointment. He hissed when she applied the ointment and peered up at her.

"Sorry," she murmured, glancing up with an apologetic smile before focusing her attention back on his burn.

"Mister -" he started, then realizing she didn't know about Mr. Wayne being involved, he felt that she didn't really need to know. "I'm having the gun checked out. Maybe my boss can figure out a way to make those things ineffective against the suit. I would really like not to get fried."

She nodded. "That sounds like a good plan. There," she said as she tied the bandage off. "Feel any better?"

"A little. It was damn close," he said, flexing his arm to test the burn, then smiled. "Thanks."

Anna shrugged, looking embarrassed as she put everything away. "I gotta be useful somehow, other than playing victim."

"If you hadn't been there, though, I would've never known about those guns." He looked at her. "I'd have been in -big- trouble."

"Yeah," she nodded. She chewed on her lower lip for a moment. "You can, uhm, have the bed back."

Terry stood up. "It's okay, I've got to study for my test tomorrow anyway."

"Oh," she said, and moved out of the bathroom and off to the side so he could exit as well.

He turned off the light and stepped into the hallway, closing the bathroom's door most of the way. "Did you get any sleep?"

"I tried," she replied with a sigh. "I kept worrying about you, so I got up again. I did finish off both sandwiches." She smiled, scratching her ear and ducking her head. "I was hungry."

Terry laughed softly. "That's okay. Mom would probably be irritated at me if I wasted perfectly good ham."

Anna started to say something, but stopped. She took in a breath and tried again. "What's she gonna say? I mean, when she finds out you let me stay here?"

He shrugged. "I'll tell her the truth. You got jumped and needed a place to stay. It's what friends do."

Terry almost missed the bright, hopeful smile on her face, but he had glanced at her while he'd finished his sentence, and a warm feeling made him return the smile. He hadn't realized that she'd react that way to him calling her a friend.

"I'd like to be your friend," she said. "I didn't have any out there ... "

"It must have been really lonely," he responded, sitting on the arm of the couch.

She wrapped her arms around herself, and Terry figured it was a habitual gesture. "Kinda. I had people I'd talk to, other bums and stuff, but they weren't really my friends. I used to sit outside your school and watch the kids there, and imagine what it must be like to have real friends."

He listened to her, not really knowing how to reply to that. He'd never wondered what his life would be like without his own friends, or even having to go to school. Or not having any parents. He was lucky to still have his mother, and a place to live.

"I'll let you study," she said, smiling a little. "You have to do well."

"I'll be out here if you need anything." He returned the smile and watched her go back to his room. He glanced at the clock, then sighed and picked up the algebra book on the coffee table.

"Yeah ... I -should- do well," he muttered and cracked open the book, vigilantly starting to study.

Richards was cowered in the corner. His usually pristine suit jacket was torn in several places, and his broken nose was trickling blood down his upper lip. He was clutching his briefcase to his chest.

"I-I'm sorry! I didn't know Batman was going to be there," he sputtered.

His employer hissed in anger and grabbed him by his wrists, physically hauling him off the floor. "You should have known, you idiot! Now he probably knows about our plans, or at least what the weapons are made from."

"I didn't mean to!" His eyes were wide with fear.

"You failed the last time, Richards." She growled and flung him back into the wall. She gestured and turned away from the fallen man as the burly men that had accompanied Richards to the clandestine meeting each took an arm and lifted him to his feet. They pulled him towards the door, and Richards was blubbering, trying to free himself from the grasp of the men.

"Stop," she said, turning to look at them. Richards got a hopeful look. "Make sure he's drugged first."

"No!" Richards wailed.

"Yes, Uncia." The burly men answered, and shut the door behind them as they left with the former employee in tow.

Uncia stared out of the window, golden feline eyes glowing in suppressed anger. "Nobody fails me more than once."

Terry awoke to the sounds of his mother making breakfast in the kitchen. And his brother Matt poking his forehead, chanting "Wake up, Terry," over and over. He swatted at his brother's hand and yawned.

"He lives," Matt grinned.

"Ha ha, very funny brat." Terry sat up, dislodging the algebra book that laid open on his chest. It dropped on the floor and somehow managed to look hurt. Terry bent over to pick up the book, smoothing the bent pages and shut it.

"So," his brother started. "Did you fall asleep before or after you opened the book?"

He gave Matt a withering glance and got up, setting the book on the coffee table and walking to the kitchen. His mom was putting a quick breakfast together, and smiled to him as he walked in.

"Good morning, honey." She flipped a pancake. "Why were you sleeping on the couch?"

Terry got a glass of juice and sat down at the table just as his brother entered the kitchen. "A friend of mine is borrowing my room," he started, taking in a fortifying breath. "She got jumped by some Jokerz and didn't have anywhere else to go."

"What?" his mother exclaimed.

"Terry had a girl sleep over," Matt taunted.

Terry held his hands up. "Look, I remember the rules, Mom. But I couldn't just let her stay out there, she might have gotten hurt badly."

Mrs. McGinnis sighed. "I trust you, Terry. And it was very nice of you to let her stay here overnight."

"Aww." Matt pouted, having expected his brother to get into trouble.

"What do you mean, though, she didn't have anywhere else to go?" Mrs. McGinnis turned to look at her son.

"She's homeless, Mom." Terry took a sip of his juice.

"Oh," was all his mother could say, blinking a little. "What's her name?"

"Anna," he replied, finishing off his juice in one gulp. "Maybe Mr. Wayne could help her out."

"It wouldn't hurt to ask," his mother responded. "It sounds like a good idea."

He nodded and got up from the table. "I'm going to wake her up, and take a shower. Thanks for waking me up so early, brat," Terry grinned at his brother and ruffled his hair before leaving the kitchen.

"Hey! Cut it out," Matt swatted at Terry's hand and stuck his tongue out at his retreating back.

Terry knocked on his door, then quietly opened it when he didn't get an answer, looking into his room. Anna was curled up in the blanket, still asleep. He eased his way into the room and squatted down beside the bed.

"Anna?" he asked softly, then reached out and put a hand on her shoulder.

She stirred a little, curling up a bit more under the blanket, then yawned and opened her eyes to blink at him. "Oh ... ! Good morning?"

He smiled. "Yep. I thought you might wanna get up."

"Kicking me out already?" She smiled, but there was a bitter expectancy in her eyes, as if she knew she couldn't stay.

Terry rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I didn't think you wanted to hang around here all day, and you can't come to school with me. But I did have an idea."

She sat up and stretched, covering a yawn with her hand. She blinked the rest of the sleepiness away and looked at him. "What's that?"

"I remembered what you said, about being a victim." He started, smiling a bit. "And I got to thinking that maybe you could help us out."

"Us?" One brow was raised in question.

Terry grinned a little. "Mister Wayne and I."

"Mister ... Wayne?" She frowned, then her eyes went wide. "As in Wayne-Powers Mister Wayne?"

"The same," he nodded.


End file.
